if we drown tonight
by devirnis
Summary: "His gaze travels from her face to her chest (what, he's only human, and more than a little drunk) to the empty glass she's holding that smells faintly of vodka. Huh. Guess he's not the only one intent on getting shitfaced tonight." After Marcus and Anya announce they're pregnant, Baird finds an unexpected drinking partner.


**A/N:** So full disclosure, I haven't actually played Gears 4 yet. I'm on vacation and I read some things and was like I NEED TO WRITE SOMETHING IMMEDIATELY. This takes place after Gears 3 but before the new game.

Also, I wrote this on my iPad in a hostel so please forgive any typos and such.

* * *

 **if we drown tonight**

Marcus and Anya are having a baby.

Baird mulls that thought over as he takes a sip of his fourth (fifth? He's lost count, honestly) cocktail. Although it's not really a cocktail at this point; he's long since run out of the other ingredients to make old fashioneds. Now it's just whisky and ice if he can be bothered. Everyone else has cleared out of the bar, so it's not like he needs to keep up appearances anymore.

He doesn't know why the news drove him to the bar after the congratulations were finished. It's not like he's jealous. Hell, he's been certain since he was fifteen that he never wanted that - kids, a family, that whole life. It was never as perfect as it looked on the outside, and the illusion wasn't worth the struggle. On paper, he'd had the perfect family growing up: both of his parents successful in their respective fields, enough money that he never had to want for anything. But the Baird mansion had been a cold, loveless place - not a place that Baird wanted to inflict on another human being.

Whatever. Marcus and Anya are the ones having the kid, not him. He doesn't need to obsess about this.

The alcohol must have dulled his senses because he doesn't realize someone is approaching him until he hears the screech of wooden chair legs along the laminate floor beside him. Turning to look, he finds none other than Sam Byrne flashing him a lopsided smile. His gaze travels from her face to her chest (what, he's only human, and more than a little drunk) to the empty glas she's holding that smells faintly of vodka.

 _Huh._ Guess he's not the only one intent on getting shitfaced tonight.

He downs what remains in his glass and twists his body to face Sam. "Not with the happy couple?"

Sam shakes her head slowly as she slides into the chair next to him. "Nah. Can only hear so many well-wishers before it starts feeling like a little too much."

"Figured you'd be all baby crazy," Baird mutters, reaching for the bottle of whiskey.

"Because I have ovaries?" Sam asks. She holds her empty glass towards him expectantly.

"Caught me, I'm a sexist pig." He starts pouring her some whiskey. "Isn't the saying 'beer before liquor, never been sicker'?"

Sam shrugs and takes a long drink. "I've got that Kashkuri constitution. What about you? Can't help but notice you ducked out early too."

"Caught me again." Baird briefly considers deflecting, or saying something to purposefully piss her off and get her to storm out, but he finds he doesn't have the energy to summon that much vitriol. "I dunno. Guess the talk of kids and families just gets me thinking about mine and how much of a joy that was."

"It makes me think about all the lives I could have had, and if I'd have kids in any of them," Sam says quietly.

After a long pause, Baird says, "That was very honest of you."

Sam shrugs, clearly not embarrassed. "You were being candid. Thought I could return the favour."

By all rights this conversation shouldn't be happening. Not between the two of them, anyway. He doesn't do this - he doesn't have deep, sincere talks with anybody but Cole, and he's the last person Sam should be coming to for advice. But, for whatever reason, it doesn't feel wrong. He doesn't regret anything he's said, nor is he itching to bolt. Maybe it's the alcohol. Or maybe it's the person he's talking to. Either way, he wants to see how this plays out.

"You thought about that with Dom?"

She nods, finishing off her whiskey. "Yep. Knew it probably wouldn't have happened." Then she puts her glass down slowly. "Thought about it with other blokes, too."

"Yeah, who?" The words are out of his mouth before he's considered the implications of what she's said. Sam sighs and looks at him, resigned and serious.

"Are you gonna make me spell it out?"

Oh.

 _Oh._

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought about it - what it would be like between the two of them. But it had never gone further than simple thoughts. He'd tested the water with her, given her shit to see if she could take it, could put up with his weird fucked-up form of affection - and she gave as good as she got, could match him barb for barb. And he'd never done anything about it because he saw the way she looked at Dom and he hadn't needed that kind of drama in his life. But Dom was gone now, and Sam is sitting beside Baird, looking at him like she expects him to break her heart too, and maybe all he'd needed was a little liquid courage to stop wondering and actually _see_ what things could look like with her.

"No," he says, putting his own glass down. "I don't need you to spell it out."

And with that, he reaches out to curl a hand around the back of her neck. They stare at each other for a few moments, waiting, each giving the other a chance to back out and pretend like this never happened. Blame it on the alcohol in the morning. But Baird sees only determination and desire looking back at him and suddenly he's far too curious about what Sam's lips taste like to wait another second.

Whiskey mixed with vodka, as it turns out. That's what she tastes like on the first kiss. It's tentative, their lips barely brushing together, and it sends an unexpected electrical charge through him. His grip on the back of her neck tightens and then Sam takes the initiative, licking into his mouth and gliding her tongue against his and _oh yes_ why hadn't he thought of that one first? He angles his head a little and nearly tumbles out of his chair when Sam reaches forward and clamps a hand onto his thigh. It's an awkward position try and pull her closer but she seems to get the hint without him having to say anything and suddenly she's clambering into his lap.

He doesn't know how long they stay like that, trading kisses, mouths moving along jaws and necks, no sounds other than their quiet panting in the silence of the bar. When they eventually make eye contact again, they're both breathing like they've run a four minute mile. It's a little ridiculous and Baird can't help but snort.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting to do that?" Sam asks, her tone a pleasant mixture of annoyed and entertained.

Baird shrugs, his head spinning in a way that has nothing to do with the whiskey. "Enlighten me."

The corner of her mouth quirks up in a half-smile. "How about I just show you again?"

"I think I'd be okay with that."

"I would hope so," Sam says, chuckling, and leans in again.


End file.
